Rain

Rain

The first drop fell as the tears began to dry.

Everyone had already made their way back to the Burrow at Molly's insistence. In between sobs, she had pointed out of the peakedness of more than five different people, promising a hearty feast after the service.

Angelina stood in the living room, watching Molly distract herself with various pots and pans. Mr. Weasley and Bill had already tried to stop her, but she persisted in her elaborate cooking. Angelina understood- who would want to give up their only distraction?

A large thunder clap broke Angelina from her daze. She glanced ahead at the kitchen window, just in time to see a bolt of lightning flash across the sky. It illuminated the entire field outside the window, including the familiar redhead standing in the midst of the pouring rain.

--

Angelina walked towards George, her black dress getting soaked. Her tight braids clung to her back and her makeup smeared as the rain continued to pour down. Her chest tightened as she got closer to him, and she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat.

"George?", she forced out.

He jumped slightly, but didn't turn to face her.

Angelina tried again.

"George, it's really pouring out here. Maybe, you should come inside?" Her voice shook. "Please?"

It was silent for a moment, the only noise the rain streaming down around them.

Angelina stood there awkwardly, unsure of whether to stay or go.

"He wouldn't like this." George began, still not turning around.

Angelina bit her lip, blinking back tears, waiting for George to continue.

"We're supposed to make people laugh. We're supposed to make them happy." He turned towards her. "Fred hates seeing people cry."

Angelina had watched him the entire service, staring blankly at the coffin – trying to remain as stoic as possible. Her heart had ached as she observed his feeble attempts at jokes in his eulogy and his broken smile as he addressed the crowd. She felt the same ache now as she saw the pain in his eyes, watching him try so hard to hold his feelings in.

She reached out to touch him.

"George..."

"No!" He took a step away from her. "I don't want pity. I don't want that look that I've been getting from everyone in that house. I just – I want-" He began playing with his tie, avoiding Angelina's gaze. "I want to be happy. I want it to be easy like it was before."

She reached out to touch his shoulder, and this time he didn't move away. He looked up, his sad eyes meeting hers.

"I want to laugh for Fred," he said, his voice cracking. "I want to do what he'd want. But I don't know how."

George looked to Angelina, desperate for a solution.

"Well," she began slowly. "I know Fred loved laughing. And he loved making people happy. But he also loved you." Angelina watched George close his eyes, his jaw clenched.

"And," she continued, 'I know that if things were different, if you were gone and he were here – he wouldn't be laughing either." She swallowed hard.

"It'd break him too."

George emitted a sort of choking sound, and then began to break down in sobs.

"I can't do this alone," he forced out.

Angelina pulled him into a hug as tears streamed down both their faces, mixing with the rain that continued to fall.

"Don't worry," she softly replied. "You don't have to."